Dolled Up Zen
by Weasley's Revenge
Summary: Summer is hot.  That's part of the reason she loves it.  And the wicked things he can do to her skin with an ice cube.  That's definitely an added bonus.  JH smut.
1. Summer is Hot

**AN:** Ok so I'm a little scared to post this but oh well. First JH smut. It's their first time together too.

Summer is hot. That's part of the reason she loves it. And the wicked things he can do to her skin with an ice cube. That's definitely an added bonus. Or the way his tongue works over the excited peak of her rosy nipple. The way his beard rubs against her small breasts.

They've been fooling around for about a month, and he's made it to third base a few times, but this is as far as they've gone—both shirtless, playing with the tub of ice they'd stolen from the deep freeze. She is so fucking hot. Every nerve ending is on fire. She has never felt so alive, and so dirty, and so completely right.

She's worn the shortest pair of shorts she owns because Wisconsin is hotter than hellfire at the moment. He just so happened to appreciate them more than she'd anticipated. They were making out again the ice he had just dragged across her stomach forgotten.

He is on top smothering her in the heat that is him so she maneuvers and flips them over to take control. She is making her way down his chest when she realizes how hot he must be. Steven always wore jeans, no matter what, and this basement must be a million degrees by now.

She's done this before—only it was with Michael—so she takes unsure hands to his favorite belt buckle and begins to undo the clasp. She can feel his hands come down between them to still hers. "Jacks, we don't have to do anything more than this. I don't want you to feel like you have to or anything." She shakes her head losing some of her resolve and then continues anyway.

"I want this. I want you." He lets out a feral growl at her words and starts to kiss her again as her hands make short work of his belt. Next to go are those damn little shorts that started all of this. Panties. Jeans. Boxers. Three layers away from what they both seemed to want so badly.

He knows that she is innocent—probably the most inexperienced girl he's ever been with, but that's what is going to make it so much fun—the corrupting of a cheerleading princess. He flips them over again gaining the necessary leverage to put a knee between her legs. What he finds there sends his already throbbing cock into overdrive. She is soaking wet through her panties, and it's all for him. "Tell me what you want me to do to you." He leans down and whispers gruffly in her ear.

She moans at the cadence of his voice and begins to rub her core against his jean clad thigh. "No, no," he chastises, "not until you say what it is you want."

His teasing is making her throb with want. Her lust filled mind is foggy as she thinks what he would want her to say, and then it dawns on her, but ladies don't say that word.

"Come on, Jackie. Say it." He begins to rub his knee in the spot she aches for him.

And she thinks what they hell. "Fuck. Me." There is something poetic in the ingenious wrongness of the statement.

He obliges immediately removing his pants and underwear in a swift movement before staring down at her. "These," he fingers her purple undies, "need to go." He peels them down her legs and flings them across his small room.

He lowers himself on top of her again just hovering over her small frame, and she revels in the sensations brought on by no layers. He looks into her eyes, and she is lost in the intense blue of his. "Say it again." His voice is even huskier with its unveiled lust.

This time she says it with a confidence she didn't know she possessed. "Fuck me." And he has entered her in one stroke right as she finished her sentence.

They both gasp at the sensation. He is so much bigger than Michael—she feels whole, and then he starts to move within her and she is lost in the sensation of it.

This is heaven, this is the bliss Cosmo raved about, and this is what sex should always be. He keeps pounding into her doing things to her body that Michael had never managed. She's hot all over but it's a good hot. It's a fire that's building in her stomach and at the apex of her thighs. She is a bomb that is about to explode.

He can feel here inner muscles begin to clench around him as she comes—hard. Her eyes nearly roll back into her head and she bites on his shoulder to stop herself from screaming. He thinks it is the slight pain of her teeth that keeps him from blacking out as he follows her over the edge.

They collapse sweaty and spent onto his cot. She snuggles up to his chest in the stuffy room and smiles like a Cheshire cat basking in the afterglow of what they'd just done.

**AN:** I would be so grateful for any feedback you might have…I still need help refining my smut. Anyways I hope you liked it. :) This is TBC because Broken Bird is so angsty I need some place to put random "cheer myself up" PWP. Also if you click that button below this…you win a virtual cookie...just fyi.


	2. Going Down

**AN: **Somehow this has become a JH cliché, one that I personally love. Anyway it's been done about a hundred times, but I think it's fitting.

She never tires of how endlessly wrong all of it is. How she should hate the calluses on his fingers; how she should dislike the soft hair that covers his face, but how she can't seem to muster that hate. The lust she feels for him is animal just like the hate would be—if she could still manage it. Because, try as she may, to convince herself that it is just a meaningless fling she knows it isn't.

It's the little things that tell her. The way he caressed her face after their first time. His deliberate ministrations designed to take her to heights Michael never had. The care he puts into every moment of their togetherness. Because he might say he hates her—and in all reality he probably does—but in these moments he is Steven. He is her Steven.

But this time is different; this cements something in her heart. Back on his cot just the same as every other day. Languid kisses being shared on a stormy afternoon. A rumble of thunder shakes the house, and she giggles into his mouth, says something unimportant and they continue to kiss.

His hand makes its way down to the front of her shirt, and she prepares for the days usual festivities. Second base and if he's feeling generous, a well-placed knee, or even fingers, between her thighs. She waits for him to slide down the straps of her shirt, and is surprised when he pulls back. He studies her face, and for a moment, she becomes lost in the blue of his eyes, the blue of a winter sky. "Jackie, if" he stumbles over his words unsure of how to word what he's thinking, "do you…want to… ah screw it never mind." He leans in to kiss her again his hand finding her breast and flicking her nipple through the thin material of her shirt. His mouth turns upwards into a smirk as he feels that she's not wearing a bra.

They continue like this in their normal pattern. Kiss. Grope. Smile. Until she can feel his hands leaving a searing trail to the south—to the place where she had decided to grant _all _of him access only a few short days ago.

He flips open the button on her Capri's, and then looks to her asking permission with those crystalline eyes. She should say no. She should slap him. But all of those thoughts disappear when he places a gentle kiss just below her belly-button. She nods, unsure if she actually meant to approve of this behavior. She knows that, after what has happened, it is more than just a fling. She knows, but she can't find it in herself to give a damn when he slips off her jeans and panties in one fell swoop.

Suddenly exposed before him she feels so very _naked_. It makes sense—being that she is without clothes—but it's more than physical. She feels emotionally bare in front of him and it's both exhilarating and terrifying.

He begins to kiss up her thighs and she stops him with a questioning look. "What are you doing, Steven?"

"I thought you wanted—" He begins a mild freak-out thinking that he misinterpreted her signals.

"I do. It's just…your mouth?" Her statement is accompanied by a look of pure confusion, and he is forced to remember again that she is so innocent when it comes to matters of physical gratification.

"You mean Kelso _never_ went down on you. Not once the entire time you two were dating?" She nods meekly.

"He said I wouldn't like it anyway." Hyde is overcome with the urge to punch his best-friend.

"I think you'll like it. You just have to trust me." He never thought he'd tell a girl to trust him. Just like he'd never thought he would go down on a chick that guaranteed about a zero-percent chance of returning the favor. Who knew a ninety-five pound cheerleader could make him such a puss. But with her sitting there with those wide eyes staring up into his with—was it admiration or maybe something else—a mix of lust and neediness; he decides. He can't resist making her feel good.

She is beautiful except he doesn't use that word. He says hot or sexy or cute. But in that moment she is beautiful and sexy and he wants nothing more than to make her feel all of the things he knows Kelso never could.

She nods again and says, "I trust you Steven," and if that isn't the weirdest turn-on ever he picks up where he last left off.

Jackie has heard girls talk about this before. In the locker-room at school, she remembers hearing about the first time Pam Macy got "eaten out." That night she'd gone to Michael and asked him about it. He told her she wouldn't like and she'd believed him—until now.

She'd believed it until she sees that look in Steven's eye that tells her Michael was being an idiot. She'd believed it until Steven told her to trust him, and she does.

She trusts him so she relaxes back on his cot waiting for whatever this may entail. His hands trail down her sides to pin her hips to the bed, and she wonders why. Placing a wet kiss just inside her knee he begins to make his way up her thighs. Alternating nibbles and licks until she can' contain her moans—her hips moving of their own volition making her realize why he is holding them down.

There is a warm breath exhaled just millimeters from where she wants him most. A brief moment that seems to take years as he lowers his lips to her most secret place.

She feels her body's reaction before she truly experiences it. His tongue is making delicate circles on her clit and everything tingles in the most delicious way. Her hips begin to move again trying to find a rhythm that will satisfy her growing need for release.

"Stop moving." The words are muttered as he continues his quest, and the vibrations go right to the pit of her stomach creating an abiding warmth. Feeling her body still he removes a hand from her hips and guides it delicately to her entrance.

It is hell not to move when he places an explorative finger inside of her. He begins to pump into her slowly as his mouth continues to ravish her clit with gentle suction. He adds another finger to the first; pumping a bit faster and curling them at the right moment to hit that sweet spot.

She is lost in a sea of sensation. His hands and mouth have worked her into a frenzy and she knows what is coming next. She can feel it building somewhere deep inside of her. She knows she is going to scream just as her climax hits her. She grabs his pillow to muffle her cry as she shouts the reason for her ecstasy.

He can feel her whole body tense in preparation for her orgasm, and then the vice-grip of her muscles spasming around his fingers. But the real kicker—the boost to his ego—is the way she screams his name as she hits her high.

**AN:** I'm trying to make this about a teensy bit more than just sex. Although it is all an excuse to write smut I feel like I should characterize them a little as well. Anywho please review. :) Tell me if I did well because I don't really know if my smut is any good (one of the problems with authors is we are shitty judges of our own work).


	3. Anticipation

**AN: **This is, technically, a continuation of chapter "C" of What's in a Word. You don't have to read that to understand it though. This jumps ahead in our timeline quite a bit.

Before _this_ she was unaccustomed to the tease. With Michael things had always been so cut and dry. No real foreplay, no taunting, no moments of grand passion. Before her first time with Steven she hadn't really known what she was missing. Now she knew. She knew that with the flick of his fingers he could make her whimper. She knew that with one word he could send her reeling.

**Friday, 8:05 AM**

That is exactly why she finds herself in this predicament. Steven has taken it upon himself to educate her on some of the finer points of pleasure. And this week's lesson is on a_nticipation_. He has refused to really touch her all week—a peck on the lips, a gentle hand on her hip—but nothing that she has come to expect from him. There is no sneaking out of study halls to make-out in a closet, no clandestine meetings in his back bedroom. He is acting like a twelve-year-old who is afraid of cooties. But she knows. She knows that he wants it just as bad as she does.

She can sense it in the way his eyes devour the flesh exposed by her boat-neck top. At this point in his little experiment she has grown desperate for any type of touch, and her desperation shows in her increasingly slutty choices of wardrobe. The shirt is red with a low slung ruffled neckline. It is draped just barely on the wings of her shoulders and leaves just enough to the imagination. She admits it is a low blow.

His eyes light up when she enters his line of sight, and they immediately dip to look at what is just concealed from them. He smirks at her, and it stirs a certain warmth in her stomach that immediately drops to reside firmly between her legs. With one smirk he has left her wanting. "Nice outfit."

"What, this? I've had it for years." She tries to ignore the way his eyes have darkened. She really does try, but ultimately loses her fight as she looks up at him. He leans down so that his face is between her shoulder and ear.

His tongue darts out and traces a teasing circle against her exposed flesh before his lips hover millimeters from her ear, "Tonight. Wear this shirt." The breath of his words is directed straight below her ear and it sends a shudder through her entire body. She nods, and he slowly pulls his head back before kissing her once on the lips—just long enough to leave her wanting more, which, she is sure, is part of his plan.

Like that he is gone, and she is left standing there trying to gain control of her burgeoning lust. The only thing that helps is his word that tonight she will finally get the satisfaction she has craved.

She spends the rest of her day in a dream world—a very dirty dream world. Most of her fantasies involve a very naked and very willing Steven doing unmentionable things to her in none-too-private places. The only period that she is not totally lost to is Spanish. Because he sits right behind her in Spanish. She can smell him as he traces careful patterns on her neck and shoulders, and it drives her nearly mad with lust. She rushes out of that class as soon as the bell rings intent on getting home and showering before she goes to meet Steven.

She dresses in autopilot because she is too excited about what tonight might entail. She pulls on a black skirt with lace detail and decides to skip panties tonight—hopefully he won't think she's too desperate. Next she pulls the red shirt over her head and adjusts the edges so they rest just-so on her shoulders. This top leaves no doubt about her lack of bra. Red lipstick, a little black eyeliner, a spritz of her favorite perfume, and she is ready for whatever he decides to throw at her.

The walk to the Forman's seems to take longer than usual, but she is finally able to get there and walk in the basement door to be greeted with a familiar sight. Her boyfriend is sitting on his chair watching the television seemingly enamored with whatever he is watching. She clears her throat to announce her presence. He just looks at her and smirks.

There is no telling where he wants to take this so she simply sits on the couch and waits. After half an hour, she has had too much with his little game, "What the hell are you waiting for?" Her voice is both harsh and whiny showing equal parts anger and fragility.

"You have to tell me you want it," his response is curt, but he says is with a nearly quixotic smirk—she is damn tired of his smirks so she decides to tease him back.

"I want it so bad I didn't wear panties." These past few months with him she has become bolder, but this is a new level of "bad" for her.

His response is visceral as he swallows the lump that forms in his throat at her words. In an instant, he is on her all hands and lips and teeth—it is just enough to hurt—the minutest please/pain.

She moans into his mouth as his hands make short work of her top to spill out her breasts. He quickly palms one while working his other hand into her hair. She is kissing him like his mouth is her only source of oxygen, and oh God how she has missed this, even after a week it feels so right to be like this again. In the fog of how good this all feels, she remembers that they are in the middle of the basement and mumbles something that sounds like "bedroom" against his frenzied lips.

He obliges and wraps her legs around him to carry her to his room. Throwing her on his cot unceremoniously he removes his own shirt before joining her. Their mouths collide again with even greater for and his hands work their way down to her chest. He starts with a gentle pressure squeezing both of them lightly before narrowing in on her nipples with a light pinch. Her breathy moan tells him how much she has missed this.

The next thing to go is her skirt which he peels down her legs slowing, still trying to keep the illusion of a tease. His face comes to rest just between her legs and she shakes her head no—because as much as she loves it when he does _that_ what she really wants is him. All of him.

She makes her intentions clear when she pulls him up for another kiss, and her hands drift south to undo his fly. She pushes his pants down the rest of the way with her feet, and they rest like that for a few moments naked as two jaybirds. Jackie pushes her hips upward, a clear invitation of what she wants. He, of course, obliges because it may have been his idea to go a week without this, but now that it's over he wants it just as bad as she does.

He lines himself up and looks at her eager face before making the first thrust. They both groan, and he leans down for a kiss before he finds a rhythm. "God, Jackie, you're so tight."

Her response is meant to be "I've gone a week without sex what do you expect?" It comes out more like a flustered moan. She leans forward into him and begins to suck on the ball of his shoulder to muffle her moans. His skin is slick with sweat, but has a faint hint of sweetness.

After a week without this feeling, she is nearly in heaven. Stroke after stroke he brings her closer and closer to ecstasy all while kissing her into oblivion. If she ever has to go a week without this again, she will die. He finds that sweet spot one more time before she falls apart. She is aware that she has just had the best orgasm of her life (and quite possibly the best fucking she's ever received) but most of it is in a fog. He says something, but it is lost on her exactly what.

He removes himself from her, and she feels like she has just lost something—not that he has taken something back that is his, but that he has taken something that is hers. He spins her around so that her back is to him and wraps his strong arms around her body draping a leg over her calf. When she finally regains control of herself, Jackie realizes that she's crying, and he is simply holding her and placing gentle kisses against her neck. "Are you ok, Doll?"

"I'm great." She doesn't know why she's crying. "These are happy tears." She tilts her head back to place a kiss on his lips making her arousal clear. "Now who's up for another round?" He groans.

**AN:** Ok, now it's your turn. Please leave a review and tell me how I did. (Also if you're interested check out What's in a Word—it's only a collection of drabbles so it shouldn't take too long :))


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